Starspeaker
by Pagemistress89
Summary: After nearly dying, Harry is found by a woman calling herself Starspeaker, who then helps Harry discover his own unique powers and enter the ranks of the greatest power on Earth: The Talented. NOTE: this fic is dead. Sorry.
1. Starlit Meetings

Starspeaker

Chapter 1: Starlit Meetings

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters in it. Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Characters that are not in canon but are in here are mine, though.

Saturday. Yes, it all began on Saturday, on his fifteenth birthday. I was traveling through his town, on my way to meet a potential customer for my day job. In all honesty, I'm still disgusted at how absolutely boring the village was. No little fun shops, no sights, nothing. Then, passing the empty park (it was about midnight, after all) I saw a figure stumble through it. Then the person, to my astonishment, collapsed.

I fumbled for my cell phone, thinking to call someone, when the logical part of me intervened. Perhaps he's not hurt, I told myself, but simply tired, or perhaps he's practicing for a play. Still, my instincts were screaming that he was in danger, and I always have trusted my instincts.

That's how I ended up casually walking by him, acting as if I needed to get across. Only one glance was necessary to assess the situation. It was bad. My instincts were right again.

There wasn't much blood, but there were a lot of ugly bruises and a few new scars. I knelt by his side, shook his shoulder once. His eyes shot open.

"Please, no…don't tell…get…isus…igg." He gasped it out, his chest heaving, straining to get it said. I kept my hand on his shoulder.

"Alright. I won't tell anyone. But you need help. I'm taking you to my place" Lifting him onto my shoulders easily, I heard one more thing.

"Please…the…Pheonix…Death…"

Confused, I ignored it, and took him home. I used my ability and was able to leave Little Whinging in moments.

He was actually hurt more than I had originally thought. There were lots of old scars and bruises, and some new ones. There was also a curious mark on his forehead, a scar it seemed, and two other marks, one on each wrist. Those I passed off as tattoos and ignored. Besides that, he was thinner than any teenager should ever be. I tended him as best as I could, and he quickly recovered. While he slept on, I finished my business in Little Whinging, so I could stay at home for when he awoke. Finally he did.

His eyes opened quickly, just like before. He tried to talk, but nothing came out. Before he panicked, I handed him a glass of water to drink. This time, he spoke clearly.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"Calm down. You're at my house. I took you here after you collapsed in the park. Before that, I have no clue." _Yet_, I added silently. His eyes traveled, noting, I hope, the tidy room, and also my First Aid equipment.

"Thank you. For helping me, I mean. But, who are you?" I smiled.

"My name is Asitel. Asitel Starspeaker, as I'm called. And you would be?" He grimaced, which I found odd.

"I'm, er, Harry Potter." He watched my face; as if afraid I'd recognize him. When he decided I didn't, he moved on. "Sorry, but why are you called 'Starspeaker'?"

"That's for later. Now, I imagine you need some food. If you think you can walk, come with me." He could, so I led him to the kitchen, where he was given a plate heaped with food and an order to eat. After he did so, I refilled his plate and repeated the order. He managed to obey. Barely.

"You are extremely malnourished. Do you have an eating disorder, or are you just neglected?" At my last choice, he winced, and sighed. "So you're neglected. Let me guess, you're also abused." Hesitantly, he replied.

"Yes. But please, don't tell them." Now that was confusing.

"Tell who? Look, if your parents are abusive, someone's got to be told. Namely, the police."

"It's not my parents. I'm an orphan. It's mostly just my uncle. But look, it doesn't matter anymore. So don't bother."

"What? If you've got someone to take custody of you, I can't keep you here forever, kid. You're probably going to have to go back to them eventually unless you tell someone." He smiled sadly.

"How can I go back when they're dead?" I didn't understand.

"What's that mean?"

"It means that they're dead. My uncle, my aunt, my cousin. _They _came. They wanted me, but I got away. I tried to get to Mrs. Figg, she's my old babysitter, and she lives 2 streets over, but, well…" I finished for him.

"You collapsed before you could. So I'm to understand that your parents have been dead, your uncle abused you, and your relatives were all somehow murdered the night I found you." He looked down.

"Yeah." I remember still, how a chill ran through me at the casual answer. I looked at him closely then, and when I saw that boy's eyes, I swear that those eyes looked a million years older than they ought to have. This boy, still a scrawny child just two years into his teens, had seen too much, lived through too much, and he was tired. I felt determined to provide him with access to the rest he needed so badly. Perhaps it was my maternal instincts finally kicking in, but I was already making plans about taking him shopping, personalizing a room for him, and teaching him the things he would need, completely forgetting about his schooling. That, I believe, was when I remembered. He might have more in the world than just family.

"Harry, do you have anyone who might be concerned about you? Because I want you to stay with me." Harry's face lit up then. It seemed that he had taken to me as much as I to him. Then, his face fell.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's just, well, September 1st I go to my boarding school. And I don't know how to contact my friends and godfather about what happened. Or my headmaster." He paused, and I smiled. Harry had seemed very confused as to why he told me that. I later learned that he rarely opened up to people that much, even with his closest friends. I decided to hand out some revelations.

"Do you mean Albus Dumbledore, of Hogwarts?" Harry's eyes widened and his shoulders sagged in relief.

"How do you know Dumbledore?" He glanced around, as if expecting some of the magical things that were common in wizarding homes. I smiled, amused at his obvious confusion. "Are you a witch?" I laughed.

"No, Harry, I'm not. Dumbledore once asked me to attend Hogwarts, but I declined. I have power, but not like Dumbledore's or yours. I know of the wizarding society and how it works, but I am not a member, and my knowledge may not be current. I haven't bothered with that world for years. I trained alone, and I have mastered my gifts."

"But if you're not a witch, than why did he want you in? I thought only witches and wizards could attend Hogwarts." I smiled and leaned back.

"That is a story for another time. Do you have a, oh, what was it, um, a toad? No, that's not it. How do you wizards communicate? I forgot."

"An owl?"

"Yes, thank you. Do you?" He looked down.

"I did. I don't know where she is. She was hunting when the Death Eaters attacked. At that precise moment, we heard a rapping on glass. I spun, to see a beautiful snowy owl tapping on the window. I rushed over amid Harry's cry of "Hedwig!" and let her in. She flew over to the ecstatic teen. "Hedwig! Oh, girl, you're okay!" The owl seemed quite pleased with herself, but also rather concerned with her master.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered, relieved. "So, Harry, it seems you do have an owl. I'll tell you what. Let's get Hedwig some rest and something to eat, you can explain what's going on in the wizarding world, like why you were attacked and who did it, and later we can head to your home and get your possessions while your owl takes a letter to Dumbledore. He can tell your friends what happened." He nodded, grinning happily. "What can she eat?" I asked, gesturing to his owl. He bit his lip, thinking.

"I sometimes give her toast, but I think she can eat most things. I once only had broth for a few weeks, and both of us survived that easily." I smiled, though inwardly I remember demanding why he only had broth to eat for a few weeks.

"Oh, good. Well, I'll get some toast for her." While heading to the toaster, bread in hand, I added, "Oh, Harry. Your surname's Potter, right?" He nodded. "About 15-16 years ago, I heard about Voldemort being defeated by a child named Harry Potter. That you?" He winced.

"Yeah. Hang on, you said his name!"

"Yes. Problem with that?"

"No, but most people can't say Voldemort's name. They just say You-Know-Who or something like that." I shrugged.

"Well, I've always hated mass hysterias. Why should I confuse things when his name's so much easier to say? Oh, here give this to your owl." He grinned and obeyed.

After a while, Harry and I were looking over his letter, checking it. Satisfied, we sealed it in an envelope addressed to Dumbledore and gave it to Hedwig, who flew out the window. 5 minutes or so later, we too were outside.

A/N – By the way, for those of you who noticed and are confused now, yes Harry does know about the Order of the Pheonix. Yes, this fic does take place after Harry's fourth year, not his fifth. I know those facts conflict. But hear me out. See, about an hour or so before Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express and left, Dumbledore pulled him aside and told him about the Order, and that if anything were to happen, Harry was to go straight to Mrs. Figgs' (a squib in the Order) house and she would take him to the Order Headquarters. Dumbledore did not tell Harry where that was – it was too dangerous. So you see, the facts really don't conflict. Everyone's happy. At least, I hope so.

My inspiration for this fic was the song "Only Hope" from A Walk to Remember, We sang the song for choir in, um, I think 8th grade, and every time I heard the verses, I thought of a girl named Asitel who could hear the stars' song. Sometimes, it told her the future, sometimes it merely caused the ache in her heart from her mothers' death to ease. For the most part, though, it was simply transformed her from an awkward, right-handed, and slightly retarded girl to a graceful, left-handed, and very intelligent young lady. I began creating her story then, but I never knew where she and I would go, or if I'd ever even finish her story. Maybe I'll write her story one day. Should I?

Anyway, "Only Hope" is a very good song. I'd like to have it here for you, but unfortunately I can't. So go look it up!


	2. Starlit Dreams

Chapter 2: Starlit Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters in it. Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Characters that are not in canon but are in here are mine, though.

Looking back, I supposed I probably bewildered Harry. After all, he had obviously been through a traumatic summer, and to top it off, his only living relatives had just been killed. He had been preparing for death, and to wake up suddenly in a strange place with a stranger taking him in and offering him a home must have been overwhelming. To be able to keep up with everything and act as though it was perfectly normal spoke of an incredible coping mechanism and simply an incredible boy.

But I'm straying.

When we got to 4 Privet Drive, Aurors were already examining the place. I wanted to avoid them, so I quickly turned Harry and myself invisible. We gathered his things, turning them all invisible upon contact with us and sending them to my home. I suppose we confused the Aurors quite a bit, but they couldn't find us, no matter how many detection charms they cast. They cast a lot of them, too.

The house, especially Harry's room, was a mess. It looked like someone had tried to burn it down and was only partially successful. Still, it was nauseating, seeing the Dursley's mangled and partly burned bodies, seeing the horror on their faces. Fortunately, there wasn't much to get, and we were soon on our way. I had explained to Harry my method of transportation, and that was how we traveled in between his house to mine.

I had previously added a room to my house for Harry, and that was where we took his things, and that was where he slept that night. A peaceful sleep, I hope.

As for me, my night was educational, but not exactly peaceful. I have a gift, a duty, and it was in dreams that my duty and gift developed and remained strongest.

I dreamed of the attack. I saw masked killers enter the house. I saw an injured, weak Harry drop silently out of his window and run. I saw his relatives be tortured, interrogated, and killed. I saw the Mormordre be cast.

The dream switched scenes to my relief, and I saw a young woman appear in a home of redheads. The mother broke down crying with her daughter at the woman's news, while the men (all four of them) simply stood in shock. As more people appeared, I probed further and was rewarded with sound.

"Molly! Arthur!" A newcomer shouted. His hairstyle defied today's fashion with almost silky blackness reaching to the top of his back. His blue eyes were very distressed.

"Sirius!" The young woman exclaimed. I noted how her eyes were brimming with tears. "You've heard?" The man, Sirius, nodded glumly.

"Only a bit. All I know is that the orb watching cracked and fell apart. The only way that could happen is if someone broke through the protective wards on the house." With that, the redheads just sobbed even more. Sirius continued. "Then I got word from Dumbledore to come for an emergency Order meeting. What happened, Tonks?" Tonks bit her lip. In a shaky voice she replied.

"I don't know. One minute I was at my post, all tense. I didn't know why, but the whole place just felt, well, wrong. Then," and here she looked quite ashamed, "someone Stunned me, I think. When I came to, the house was burning. I put the fire out and went in. His relatives were dead, but I couldn't find him or his owl. For some reason, there was blood everywhere in his room. It was a mess, too." She gulped. "I think it was his."

At that, I awoke and rolled over to contemplate what I'd seen. It was pretty obvious to me that Dumbledore had reactivated his Order of the Phoenix. And it appeared that at least a few people believed and accepted Sirius Black's innocence. Good. I had had visions of him and his friends, the Marauders, throughout their Hogwarts career and after, up until the night young Harry was orphaned. I suppose it was to be a form of apology to me, since, had I been allowed to, I would have attended Hogwarts as their year- and house- mates, with Sirius as a boyfriend, probably. Unfortunately, I will always be forbidden to have a romance with anyone. A pity, really. He would have been a wonderful boyfriend, once he reached sixth year and matured enough.

I believe that it was with that thought that I returned to sleep, this time without dreams.

When I awoke, it was to a loud crash in another room, followed by a slightly softer groan. Harry was awake. I smiled and prepared to face the day.

Later, during breakfast, I broached the subject Harry first mentioned.

"Harry, do you remember what you first asked me?" He gratefully retreated from his breakfast of toast and eggs, which he claimed was too generous a serving and impossible to finish, and thought. Finally he nodded.

"I wanted to know why you're called Starspeaker."

"Yes. Well, to be honest, it's not exactly a nickname, which is probably the impression I gave you, but a title. You see, Harry, I am of a small group of people simply called the Talented. All of us have the same basic powers, and we all are born with a unique ability, which we discover at a turning point in our lives, usually when we're pretty young. I was about ten and a half when I gained my ability to have true dreams. Through them, I can see the past and present, but never the future. If I try hard enough, I can see what would happen if a choice was made differently than it really was. For example, I told you that I was invited to Hogwarts, but refused. Well, about a week later, I tried to learn what would happen if I had accepted. It turned out that I would have been sorted into Gryffindor, become best friends with Lily Evans and the Marauders, dated, and eventually married Sirius Black. In fact, I would have become your godmother, Harry." I smiled gently at the awestruck boy. "This means that you were quite right to accept my hospitality offer. Your parents would have thought that I would make a good guardian for you, and I hope I'll prove them right.

"Now, occasionally, one of the Talented experiences a disaster in his or her life, usually the loss of a close friend or family member. To console them, they are given extra abilities. My mother died a week after I was born. The doctors tried everything to save her, but she was too weak, and eventually died. My father died when I was twenty as the result of a drunk driver hitting him. The results were my abilities to hear the song of the stars and create powerful weapons." At his obvious confusion, I elaborated. "I can make swords, daggers, bows, arrows, guns, glaives, spears, whatever, with the skill of a master. They can be ornamental or for battle. They can be magical or normal. They can be plain or ornate. You describe what you want, and I can make it to fit your description and measurements.

"As for the other ability, well, it's a bit more complicated. The stars, Harry, are powerful allies. They hold the future and the past. They also can tell me the location of anyone I want, if I know their name and birthday. Each star has its own melody, and together they sing the song of the universe, which gives me the information I seek. I can even use them to hear the messages of the dead." After a moment's hesitation, I added, "I used to hear that song when I was a child, and through it I felt my mother's spirit."

Silence reigned for a time. I watched as Harry digested all of this. Finally, Harry gathered himself together again.

"Wow. But, Asitel, are you really allowed to tell me all this? I mean, don't you have some sort of secrecy rule?" I grinned.

"Well, yes, but it doesn't apply to you. You see, Harry, you are also one of the Talented."

"_What?_" His thin face gaped at me, reminding me to check how much of his breakfast he had finished. It turned out to be about half.

"Yes, Harry. You are one of the Talented, or rather, you will be once we get you initiated. In the meantime, eat. I will not have the Council see you this emaciated." I poked my fork in his direction.

"Emaciated? I'm not emaciated!" I raised an eyebrow. It took me a long time to learn to do that, and I did it whenever I could. He looked down at himself, then back up, sheepishly. "Well, maybe a little." His cheeks colored ever so slightly. "So, anyway, what do you mean, 'we'? It's just you, right?" I grinned, and checked the clock.

"Actually, I have a friend, a Talented one, coming over to check you out. He'll be by in about an hour."

"What are his Talents?"

"I'll let him tell you that. Now eat." He picked up his fork and stabbed half-heartedly at his eggs.

"So, why do you think I'm a Talented?"

"Many years ago, when I first heard of the Boy-Who-Lived, er, that is your title, right?" At his grimace and nod, I continued. "Well, when I heard of you, I was naturally interested. So I listened to the stars' song as it concerns you, and I learned that not only would you be an exceptional wizard, but that you were one of the Talented. Also, since you had just been orphaned and been in your first life-or-death encounter, you had received your extra Talents." Harry chewed slowly, digesting this.

"Do you know what my Talents are?"

"No. Hopefully, though, I will soon. Now, enough of this talk. Finish that, and we'll commence with waiting for Brad."

"That's your friend."

"Yes. Now eat." With a long-suffering sigh, he picked up some eggs.


	3. Strange Circumstances

Chapter 3: Strange Circumstances

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters in it. Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Characters that are not in canon but are in here are mine, though.

Tom the bartender had owned the Leaky Cauldron for about forty years now and had seen quite a few strange people and things. He remembered with fondness when James Potter and his friends came to celebrate James' engagement to the beautiful Lily Evans. He remembered when business died down due to Voldemort's first rise and the many parties when young Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord. He remembered the Boy Who Lived's first visit to Diagon Alley – the boy had looked so bewildered! He had seen hags, werewolves, and criminals. He had seen a talking goat, even. This, however, had to be the strangest thing, he decided, staring at a sight he never thought he would see.

Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, the last of a great, honorable, and wealthy line, was curled up in a shadowy corner of the Leaky Cauldron, fast asleep.

Tom stared for a few seconds more, then shook himself and knelt down to shake the boy awake. It worked. Harry threw his head up with a start, blinking rapidly. His eyes darted around, and then finally rested on Tom, his face clearly showing his confusion.

"What? Tom? What am I doing here?" He asked Tom, who could only shake his head.

"I was hoping you could tell me that, Mr. Potter. Shouldn't you be with your relatives? Even if you should be here, you most definitely should not be _here_." Tom indicated the corner. "I would be happy to give you a room anytime. Why did you settle down here?" Harry shrugged.

"I don't remember coming here. I thought I was with my rel – oh!" His eyes widened as he cut himself off. He stood up and once again scanned the room until he found the fireplace. "Tom, do you have some floo powder? I need to speak to Dumbledore! It's urgent!" He pleaded. Tom was intrigued, but nonetheless, he gestured for Harry to follow him to the fireplace, grabbing floo powder on the way.

"What's wrong, lad?" The teen could only shake his head.

"I'm not sure. It's ... hard to remember, but ... something's wrong ... with the Dursleys." Tom lifted an eyebrow, more curious than ever, but he squashed the urge to ask and let Harry take the floo powder with a "Thanks for waking me up, and for the floo powder". Seconds later, Harry Potter was gone.

Dumbledore paced in his office, frowning. He had only just returned from Grimmauld's Place, having heard the bad news and given more: all of his attempts to ascertain Harry's location, including the school addressing quill, had utterly failed. It had been 11 days now since 4 Privet Drive had been attacked, and he was without hope. Even though Harry's body (he shuddered at the phrase) hadn't been found, the large amount of blood in his room and outside, forming a trail that simply stopped in the nearby park, which had tested positive as Harry's, told Dumbledore a grim tale. Harry and his relatives had been attacked. The Dursleys had been killed. Harry must have tried to escape, though wounded. (The source of the wounds was either his relatives or the Death Eaters, though it really didn't matter: Harry was still hurt.) He was chased and captured, and then taken to Voldemort. There was no way he could have survived. Dumbledore's old heart broke again, thinking about it. The poor boy wouldn't have had a single chance.

Despite the facts, Sirius refused to accept them. Every time anyone saw him, he was repeating "He's got to be alive. He has to be alive." under his breath and glaring at anyone who suggested otherwise. Molly was weeping almost nonstop. Her twins and daughter stayed in the twins' room, silently thinking of their friend and hero. Remus had reverted to the same condition he was in after the Potters' deaths and Sirius' imprisonment. Tonks was devastated, thinking that the whole thing was her fault. And Harry's best friends... Dumbledore shook his head, smiling ever so slightly.

Ron and Hermione had taken the news hard, understandably. Yet within 24 hours, both were certain that Harry was alive somewhere, perhaps even more so than Sirius was. They were constantly talking in low tones together, looking through books for who knew what, and had been caught twice trying to sneak out to look for their best friend. They protested loudly at having been stopped, proclaiming that if the Order would just let them do what they needed (including spellcasting without repercussions from the government), they would have Harry home before dinner the next day. Sirius was the only one who believed them, and had instantly sided with them, deciding to go with them and assuring Molly that he would look after them on the search. Needless to say, the idea was shot down. Although their constant faith in Harry's ability to survive was encouraging, Dumbledore wasn't so sure. If Voldemort hadn't killed Harry yet, he was torturing him in Voldemort's stronghold, and no one taken there during the first rise had ever left except as a corpse or a new Death Eater.

Sighing, Dumbledore collapsed in his chair and buried his head in his hands. Severus was trying to see what had become of the boy, but he was having no luck. The situation was hopeless.

At the faint popping sound signaling a floo traveler, Dumbledore lifted his head. Perhaps it was someone from the Order, giving him some useful news for a change.

It wasn't; it was Harry!

Dumbledore rushed over to help the teen pull himself off the floor. He actually wasn't in that bad of a condition, he noted absently. For one thing, his muggle clothes actually fit him. For a boy who almost the entire Order thought was dead or dying at the Dark Lord's hand, he appeared to be quite healthy. The boy then looked up at his headmaster and seemed to sag in relief.

"Headmaster! _They_ came! The Dursleys – I left them, but I think –" He would no doubt have continued, but Dumbledore managed to pull himself together and held up a hand to stop Harry.

"They're dead," Dumbledore finished. "I know, lad, I know. We noticed. Don't worry about it. Now, Harry, what's important is you. I confess we had assumed that the Death Eaters had taken you to Voldemort and he had either killed you or was in the process. I can't tell you how very relieved I am to see you alive and well. But, it's been almost 2 weeks now, my lad. Where – what is it?" Harry had started and was now gaping up at him. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, but finally found his voice.

"2 weeks! Sir, that can't be! The Death Eaters just attacked last night! There's no way it's been 2 weeks!" Now it was Dumbledore's turn to be shocked, though he hid it much better.

"It hasn't been a full two weeks, but today is August 11, Harry. Don't you remember the past week and a half?" He shook his head, still in shock.

"I don't remember very much about the attack even. They came and started firing curses. I managed to get out through my window and start running. After that, I think I collapsed." He frowned. "Next thing I know, Tom is waking me up and I'm in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't know how or when I got there, either." He stopped and thought a bit. Finally, he shook his head and looked at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't remember anything else." Dumbledore sighed. Then he looked at Harry and smiled.

"Ah, well, we can learn what happened later, Harry. For now, let's go and tell your friends that you're alive and here. Your godfather and the other two thirds of the 'Golden Trio' will be particularly pleased. Those three have been quite determined to go search for you. I believe Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger were planning on storming Voldemort's fortress by themselves if necessary to fetch you, in fact." Harry grinned.

"The Golden Trio, sir?"

"Yes. Hadn't you realized? That is your peers' nickname for you three. It has been for some time now. But come." Dumbledore picked up his pot of floo powder, and the two were soon on their way to "12 Grimmauld Place!"

The first thing Harry thought of when he saw the house was that it made a pretty poor headquarters. The place was filthy – _Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack if she saw this place_ – and seemed to scream its ancient family's affiliation with all things dark. He was prevented by making further observations by a scream.

"Harry! Oh Harry! It is you!" Hermione threw herself at him and Ron was only a heartbeat slower to get up and make his way to his best friend. Ron was grinning.

"I knew you'd be fine, mate. I knew it. You really can't be killed, can you? How are you? Hermione, let him go; he won't be able to breathe soon, let alone explain himself."

Hermione released him, to Harry's great relief. He grinned at them, and told them, "I don't know. I only just found out that it was August, not July, a few minutes ago. I can't remember a thing past collapsing in the park." Just then, Sirius and Remus came in, followed by Fred, George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. All of them were indeed ecstatic to see him. Sirius and Mrs. Weasley kept asking if he was alright. Harry was happier than he'd ever been. They had been worried about him. When Dumbledore told him that everyone was worried, he'd been expecting mild concern. But this – it was mind-boggling. Harry was beginning to feel overwhelmed. To think that only a few days ago, he'd been wondering if life was worth it; he had been contemplating and eagerly awaiting the day when his uncle would go too far and stop the pain for good.

"Harry? Are you alright? What's wrong, kiddo?" Harry glanced up at Sirius' concerned face and forced a smile.

"It's nothing. I just still can't figure out why I can't remember anything." He firmly pushed his thoughts away. He could dwell on his uncle later. Sirius frowned, but accepted it.

"That is strange." He turned to Dumbledore. "Could someone have Obliviated him or something? It's just weird to forget 11 days out of the blue." Dumbledore furrowed his eyebrows.

"It is possible. We can easily get a Healer to see if he has been, and if so, correct it. That can wait, though. Molly, Sirius, if you could get Harry settled in a room, it would be wonderful. I must go check on some things. If you'll excuse me, I must be off." With a nod to everyone, Dumbledore disapparated. Mrs. Weasley nodded, and turned to Sirius.

"He is right. Sirius, which room would be best for Harry?" Sirius thought for a moment.

"I know. Here, I'll show you. I think you'll like it, Harry, but if not, we can get you another. This place is big. Come on. You guys don't need to come, though." With that, Sirius led Harry upstairs to a room. "It's around lunchtime, so I think we can eat and then get you some clothes, school supplies, and stuff. Because it was all destroyed, unless you saved any?" Harry shook his head.

"No. Come to think of it, I don't even know where I got these clothes." He gestured at what he was wearing. "They're definitely not mine. You're right, though. I don't even have my wand, but I thought I took it with me." Harry shook his head again. "It's weird." Sirius frowned thoughtfully.

"That is strange. Though you know, the clothes look good on you. Your other muggle ones have never suited you. Why did you wear them, anyway?" Harry shrugged.

"Aunt Petunia never got me new clothes. I always just wore Dudley's old things." He snorted softly. "She wouldn't even buy the uniform for Stonewall, the place I was supposed to go to before I got my Hogwarts letter. I saw her dying some of Dudley's old clothes gray for it." Sirius growled.

"Those good for nothing...oh well. I should have known. Yeah, we'll definitely have to get you new everything then. Shame about your wand though. If it could produce Priori Incantatem with Voldemort's, that would've been right useful. Doesn't matter, though. We can just get you new stuff to – what the!" He stopped just as he opened the door to a room. Harry stepped around him.

"What's wrong? Is – hey, that's my trunk!" Indeed it was. Sitting innocently in the middle of the bedroom was Harry's school trunk, open. Packed neatly inside were his school books, broom, broom care kit, his other school supplies, with his eleven inch long, holly and phoenix feather wand right on top.

A/N - Well, I finally got this up. I actually have had this written for some time now, but I wanted my brother to read over it before I uploaded it, and it was forever before he could get at a computer and read it, so yeah, it took a bit longer than expected. On the other hand, this way I get to upload it for my little sister's birthday. She turned 12 yesterday!

Also, I know that this wasn't what anyone was expecting, and I apologize. It honestly wasn't what I had been expecting, either. But then, one day, I was just thinking about Starspeaker and how to word Brad and Harry's meeting (that's usually the hardest thing for me, the writing the ideas out in a logical fashion), and this idea came out. I really like it.

As for the next chapter, well, I'm not sure when it will come. Winter vacation is coming up, so I should be able to write freely then, but I don't know. I do have it planned out, though, and I can tell you that it will have Harry will be at Hogwarts, Umbridge, and hopefully more on the Talented. Also, in chapter 6, I plan to have Christmas (it'd be great if I could get it to line up with Christmas 2005, but I doubt it) and Asitel's presents to Harry.

Well, it's time I stopped rambling with a purpose and uploaded this thing. Good night!

-Pagemistress89


	4. Home Sweet Home

Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home

Harry clapped absentmindedly as "Creevey, Michael" was sorted into Gryffindor and murmured, "Yeah, brilliant" in reply to Colin's bragging about a third Creevey in Hogwarts and Ron's groan of "Great. Now there are three of them". He fleetingly congratulated himself on sounding both congratulatory and sarcastic in two words, and then his thoughts drifted again.

Harry had had a rather eventful summer. After arriving in Dumbledore's office, he had stayed for a couple of days at 12 Grimmauld Place before being taken to St. Mungo's. After all, any fool could tell something was wrong. Even Harry had been slightly worried. Before his disappearance, Harry definitely remembered being abused by his uncle. Smeltings had finally gotten fed up with Dudley and expelled him, and the Dursleys had blamed Harry. Only this time, Vernon had gone too far, as was confirmed by the blood Tonks found in Harry's room. And yet, that first half of the summer seemed like a fleeting dream to Harry, or like a very old memory. He also remembered being rather annoyed with his friends' letters, but, like the abuse, that too had faded. Even more alarming, Harry couldn't remember a thing about the time in between his disappearance and reappearance.

When Dumbledore and Sirius found out, they took him to the wizarding hospital to see if something was wrong. To everyone's astonishment, there wasn't. According to the Healers who checked him – multiple times – he was in excellent condition for someone who had been abused and neglected. Quite honestly, that worried Harry. And not being able to remember what he felt sure were two great weeks frustrated him. He had a feeling that he had met some amazing people then and learned some amazing things, and he couldn't remember a single thing.

An elbow to his ribs startled Harry out of his ruminations. Ron, apparently the guilty one, leaned over and whispered, "Man, get a load of her! Who is that?" Harry glanced at the head table and cringed. The witch reminded him instantly of a cross between a human and a toad unfortunate enough to come across her.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Harry whispered back, "but I feel bad for the toad that was forced to fuse with her." Both chuckled, but fell silent instantly as Dumbledore rose to his feet after "Zeller, Rose" made it into Hufflepuff and Professor McGonagall took the stool and sorting hat away.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"(1) Ron cheered and did just that as the tables began groaning under the feast's weight. Smirking at his friend, Harry soon followed suit, his previous frustration forgotten.

"Harry! I just heard! What happened? Was it really as bad as the Prophet said?" Colin asked, excited as ever. Harry swallowed and looked up at the fourth year.

"What are you talking about, Colin?" His mind raced, trying to decide what Colin was talking about. It couldn't have been him facing Voldemort, Dumbledore explained that last term…

"Your uncle, of course! How he almost killed you! That must have been so frightening – but you don't look at all hurt – how did you heal so quickly? Bet you're glad he's dead, huh?" The boy explained and inquired in rapid succession. Harry idly wondered how he managed to not trip over his words. Then he realized what Colin was talking about, and frowned.

"Y'mean what my uncle was up to in July? Oh, that. He was just angry that my cousin was kicked out of school for being a fat, bullying idiot." Now the others who had been listening in were gaping at Harry too.

"Harry! What do you mean, oh that? The Prophet said that there was blood all over your room, and the tests proved that it was yours!" Lavender finally sputtered out. The rest were all nodding. Harry just shrugged.

"Dunno. I'm used to him being angry – he's hated me since day one and I've hated him. Sure, the blood was new, but honestly, I can barely remember the details." He frowned. "It's weird. It feels like it happened ages ago, not this summer." He fell back into thinking about it again and somehow managed to ignore the looks and questions everyone was giving him and their friends. His attention returned to real life when a fluttery, high-pitched girlish voice interrupted Dumbledore's speech with a "Hem, hem." (A/N: I'm feeling very lazy right now, so instead of just describing the rest of Umbridge's speech, we're going to skip ahead to the Gryffindors reaching their Tower. If you really feel that this tale won't be complete without Umbridge's speech, go and read her speech right now.)

About an hour later, Harry was finally able to climb through the Fat Lady's portrait hole and into bed. He was even more tired than usual, due to everyone's questions, both spoken and unspoken, and the Creevey brothers. At last he managed to say his good nights and go to sleep.

"_How dare you, boy? I don't know how you did it, I don't know why, but you will pay for this!" Vernon Dursley's face was the color of eggplant as he stormed into Harry's room. Harry had just finished pulling his trunk upstairs and was too out of breath to do anything more than look at his uncle quizzically, ignoring the spittle that was threatening to cover him, and blurt one syllable._

"_What?" Vernon spluttered, and this time the saliva did reach Harry. He wiped it off, irritated._

"_Why you! How dare you pretend to not know! You got Dudley expelled, you, you freak!" Harry raised an eyebrow. Well, that was interesting._

"_So he finally managed it. Wow. Can't say I'm too surprised, though. He's been asking for it for a while now." _So have I_, Harry added silently. Why should he care about Dudley's plight? Expulsion was nothing to death, and death was what Cedric got. "He's a great idiotic bully. I'm impressed that he lasted this long, really." Harry said coldly. He realized his mistake almost instantly as a fist reached his stomach. Harry was thrown back into the wall, his uncle was so strong. Then a kick aimed at the same target came, and Harry couldn't take it. Stomach acids burned his throat as he threw up the tiny amount of food he had consumed that day, right onto his uncle's shoe. Vernon pulled back in disgust._

"_Why, you!" He kicked the offending shoe off, and then the clean one followed, landing harshly on Harry's head. "Clean this mess up, you filthy freak. And don't think this is the end of this!" Vernon stomped out barefoot, only to stumble back, followed by a green light. He fell at Harry's feet, his blank eyes silently accusing his nephew …_

Released from the dream, Harry opened his eyes to see a pale blur. Squinting, he managed to make out a kind face and pale blonde hair. His glasses then appeared on his face, and he recognized the face as Asitel's. Mumbling his thanks, he avoided her concerned eyes as he sat up.

"Harry, this is the third time in as many nights that you've had a nightmare. It was your uncle again, wasn't it?" At his reluctant nod, she continued gently. "Harry, he's dead. You saw the Aurors. You heard the news. He's dead and he can't hurt you anymore. You need to let go." Harry looked down.

"I know," he mumbled. "It's just…hard. I see a red – anything and I can taste the blood. I see a fist or a black shoe, and it all comes back. And yet, I can't help but feel bad. Those Death Eaters came for me, but they didn't get me, so they killed the Dursleys, and it's my fault and –" Asitel put her fingers on his lips, quieting him.

"You're wrong. Yes, they came for you, but you didn't know about it. You couldn't know. It was not your fault that they couldn't get away. They at least weren't injured. You were, and it's their fault. They deserved it. I'm sorry if that seems cold, but it's true, Harry, and you need it accept it, just like you need to accept Cedric Diggory's death, just like you have accepted your parents' death." Harry flinched at her casual reference to Cedric, and shook his head.

"I can't. Maybe it's just too recent, but I can't. It just hurts. Sometimes even more than Uncle Vernon's fists hurt. I can't just forget, Asitel. I can't." Asitel sighed, and Harry knew that she was accepting the hopelessness of it all, that Harry couldn't forget the pain and wouldn't dismiss the guilt until he could Then Asitel paused and smiled at him.

"Maybe we can fix that."

Harry woke up to Ron's very close, confused face. "Gah!" He pulled away. Ron straightened up, grinning.

"I knew I could get you up. You alright, mate? You woke us all up last night twice. You were groaning and muttering and rolling over both times."

"What?" Harry strained his memory, but could not remember any of what he dreamed about. He had a pretty good idea of what it had been, though. "Did I wake up?" Ron frowned.

"You woke up the first time and I asked what it was and you said that it was that hallway again, and you went back to sleep, but –"he stopped here to throw Harry a disgusted look, "the second time no one could get you up. You were making all sorts of weird noises and tossing and turning, and then you finally calmed down and slept pretty deeply. Actually, I don't think you even moved at all since then." Harry winced, rolling his head. His neck was incredibly stiff.

"It certainly feels like it." He replied. Ron grinned again.

"Well, hurry up. The others have all left for breakfast already, and we need to find out what our schedules are." Harry nodded and gathered his things, then moved to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, on their way to the Great Hall, Ron finally broke the silence. "So what is this hallway that you keep dreaming about? You mentioned it last week, too. What's up?" Harry knit his eyebrows together, thinking.

"I'm not really sure. It's just a dark hallway, with doors all over the place. Then at the end, there's this one door. It's special, somehow. I don't know how, but it's the only one that matters. And yet, there's something wrong about it. I don't know what, but it – it scares me."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"What about the second half?" Harry stopped. Ron continued a few paces, and then turned back when he realized his friend wasn't moving. "Mate?" He prompted.

"That scares me even more." Harry whispered. He didn't know why he was being so open about it, but he couldn't stop himself. "I can't remember it. None of it."

"What's wrong with that? It happens a lot."

"Not like this." Harry started walking again, and Ron quickly fell into step with him. "I hadn't even realized anything happened past the hallway. Even now, I can't remember anything. And yet, there's something there – I just can't reach it." Ron nodded in understanding and encouragement as Harry fell silent.

"And…?" He prodded. Harry shook his head.

"No 'and'. That's all I know." Hermione was waving at them from the Gryffindor table. Quietly cheering at the sight of breakfast, Ron rushed over and sat down. Harry pulled up a chair on the other side of Hermione and reached for the sausages. "Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning to you, too. I have your schedules. McGonagall passed them out about a half hour ago. What took you so long? Ron, I thought you were waking Harry up an hour ago. It doesn't take that long to get ready and walk down here. What happened?" Ron got that defiant, stubborn look that only Hermione could bring out in his eyes.

"Well, sorry! Next time, you can try everything you can think of for thirty minutes to get Harry up. He was sleeping like the dead – it was practically impossible!"

"Impossible? Hmpf. Maybe for you, Ronald Weasley, but –" Harry tuned them out and grinned. They hadn't even been home for twenty four hours yet, and they were already arguing. Life was finally back to normal.

1 – This is an exact quote of pg. 208 in Harry Potter, book 5.

Author's Note - So. I was very disappointed about the last chapter. I like it, but for some reason the only one to review it was mybrother! Why didn't I get any others? Doesn't anybody love me? (crocodile tears appear) Please, review this time. I'm very proud of this chapter, even if I did have it written for about 2 weeks before uploading it. (I'm verry sorry about that, by the way, but typing is very boring. Reading is much more fun) Please review!

By the way, does anyone know how to put asteriks in? I've been trying, but for some reason, they won't stay in.


	5. Detention and Rebellion

**Chapter 5: Detention and Rebellion**

"Detention, Mr. Potter. Report here at 7:00 sharp every night next week," Umbridge told Harry, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

"What? Why? I haven't –"

"Two weeks, Mr. Potter," she cut him off, "for denying your crime and protesting punishment. I cannot believe that your relatives raised you to lie." With what was normally considered an insult, she assigned homework and dismissed the class. Harry numbly put his book away, gaping at his latest Defense teacher. The jibe about his relatives didn't bother him at all; it was almost true, after all. It was the first day of classes, and already he had detention. He hadn't even done anything!

"Surprised to have another teacher that doesn't want to fall at your feet, Potter?" called Malfoy as he passed them. "I must say, I'm glad to have a teacher in this class that knows how to deal with orphaned scar heads." Goyle, at the blonde's heels as usual, whipped his bag to his shoulders, managing to clip Harry hard with it.

As Harry steadied himself, Hermione snapped, "So does this mean you actually support the Ministry and its representative?"

"And here we thought you and your family only used the Ministry for fame, privilege, and "Get Out of Azkaban Free" cards," added a smirking Ron.

"Or are you just pleased to have a teacher that won't bounce you about? That must be a relief, _Ferret_." Harry finished their joint retort, and they all slipped out of the classroom, fighting their urge to laugh at Malfoy's livid expression. They didn't give in to it until they were a hallway away.

"Thanks, guys," Harry offered as they headed up the stairs leading to the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later.

"You're welcome, Harry. Though I must admit, it was rather stress-relieving, especially after class with that horrible woman. I mean, can you believe her? No practical lessons? We won't be able to prepare for our OWLs then! And she gave you two weeks of detention, when you did nothing! How awful!" Hermione fumed. Then, as an afterthought, she said "Mimbulus mimbletonia." The Fat Lady obligingly swung open, and Angelina, seeing them, headed over.

"Hey, Harry. Have a good summer? Listen, McGonagall's made me Quidditch captain and –"

"Congratulations," All three interrupted.

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to hold tryouts the Friday after next, and I want our whole team there, alright?" Harry frowned.

"I would, Angelina, but I've got detention with Umbridge then. I've got it for the whole next two weeks, actually."

"He didn't even do anything," Ron added. "If anyone should have gotten detention, it should have been the rest of us in class. Everyone in Gryffindor fifth year was complaining about how she won't let us do magic in class but Harry!"

"What? That's insane!" She protested, as other Gryffindor overheard and came over to add their complaints.

"I've got NEWTs this year. How can I do well without practicing?" One girl said, looking worried.

"That's even worse than last year, and I thought nothing was worse than Unforgivables!" added a sixth year boy. All around the common room, worries and complaints were voiced, until a second year interrupted them all.

"Isn't there another way to learn them?" Everyone turned to the little girl, who flushed and continued. "I mean, you know, clubs and study groups. Aren't people allowed to form them?" Hermione and many others nodded thoughtfully.

"We could have someone teach us all how to use the spells in a practical setting. Dueling, for example. Or perhaps something like what Professor Lupin did. Did the rest of you do that?" She asked the older years. "It was an obstacle course. We had to face all sorts of dark creatures." The rest nodded.

"But we'd need someone in charge." A seventh year pointed out. "Someone who's had real experience and is really good at DADA." A couple kids frowned.

"Katie Bell?" One suggested. "She's got top marks in the class." Katie shook her head.

"I'm horrible at teaching. I can't even tutor my little sister in reading and writing!" She protested.

A few other names were suggested, but each one was put down, usually by the nominee himself. Finally, Hermione threw out a suggestion.

"How about you, Harry?" Everyone fell silent and stared at Harry and Hermione. Harry was startled. Some looked thoughtful, others looked rebellious at the idea, but a good deal of them began nodding their heads and murmuring affirmatives.

"What? Why me? I can't teach," he tried to protest.

"Have you ever tried?" asked Katie.

"Everyone knows you're brilliant at Defense," piped Colin Creevey.

"He won the Tournament last year," a second year confided to a first year. Harry shook his head.

"Most of the Tournament was pure luck. Besides, Cedric should have won it, not me."

"But you had to get through the lake and the maze by yourself," Ginny pointed out. "Ron kept complaining about how stiff and tired he was from letting you practice jinxes and counterjinxes on him."

"I still feel rather stiff from all those Stunners," Ron complained. He grinned. "Gin's right, Harry. Even if you did get help for each task, in the end, it was all you, and each time you came out on top."

"You even dueled with You-Know-Who, right, Harry?" Fred reminded him. Then he and George turned to everyone else. "So it's decided."

"Mr. Harry Potter, wizard –"

" – and dueler extraordinare –"

" – will instruct all of us who protest Professor Toad –"

" – in the fine arts of dueling and defense!" The twins concluded. "Everyone who agrees, shout it out!" Harry's protests were drowned out by the resounding cheer of Gryffindor House.

Five minutes later, Ginny moved over to Harry. "So, great teacher ours," she grinned at Harry's face, "are you only going to teach Gryffindor? Because I'm sure that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff probably will feel the same as us." Harry frowned.

"I'm still not sure about all of this. But," he sighed, "since all of you want me to, I'll do it. As to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, well, I don't have a problem with it. We just have to find somewhere to do this – this – whatever we're calling it – and manage to keep it from Umbridge's notice. She'd probably throw us all in detention for the rest of the year!" Ginny wrinkled her eyebrows.

"Can she do that? I mean, only Dumbledore and McGonagall can do much of anything about inter-House clubs, and that's what this could be."

"She gave me detention for two weeks today, and I didn't do anything. If she can do that, I bet she won't have any problems with giving us all detention for holding a club to teach Defense." Ginny looked up, shocked.

"She did what? What happened?" She cried. Harry sighed again.

"I'm still not sure. She had us take notes about her 'course aims', and then had us read the first chapter of our textbook. Hermione asked why the course aims didn't mention using defensive spells, and that got everyone into an argument with Umbridge about how we need to be able to practice the magic if we want to learn it. I mostly just stayed out of it. I mean, I agree with all of them, but it's not like arguing with the teacher would do anything. All I did was maybe nod a couple of times to agree with someone, and at the end of the whole thing, she just gave me a week of detention. When I asked her what for, she gave me another week and called me a liar." He shrugged. "Then she dismissed us, Ron, Hermione, and I argued with Malfoy a bit, and we left." Ginny stared, open-mouthed.

"But she can't do that! Come on!" She pulled Harry to the painting and to Professor McGonagall's office, Harry protesting her manhandling and asking what she was up to the whole way. When they reached the office, Ginny knocked and they were allowed in.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?" Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny elbowed Harry to keep him quiet.

"Professor Umbridge gave Harry two weeks of detention for no reason, Professor. Everyone else in the class was arguing with her about how she planned to teach, but Harry didn't say anything, and she gave him detention. Can you do anything about that?" McGonagall frowned.

"Is this true, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "But really, my main problem with it is that it's going to make me miss the Quidditch tryouts this year. Angelina said she wanted the whole team there. Other than that, it's alright, Professor. I'll just go to them and see if I can reschedule that day's detention." Ginny groaned and shot him an exasperated look, but McGonagall simply continued to frown.

"I can speak to her about it, and I will see to it that the rescheduling is possible, but if you don't mind it, Potter, I won't insist she stop it. I will find the reason, though, and if it's unreasonable I trust you won't mind having the nights free?"

"Of course, Professor. Thanks." Harry said hastily. "We'll get going." This time he was the one to pull Ginny along as she quietly protested.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry! I've been meaning to update, honest! But I've never had any inspiration, and I've never had a lot of time to write! Please don't hunt me down or hurt me!

Okay, that's a bit too dramatic. Seriously, I just haven't had any drive lately. But now my mom is making me write 1500 words every day before I can go on the Internet or computer, so writing should become a bit easier.

Also, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I kind of like my current stopping point.

So, yeah, I know I'm changing a lot, especially where Harry's attitudeis concerned. But I really think he was always angry fifth year as a result of his guilt concerning Cedric and also his connection to Voldemort's moods, and since Asitel got his memories of the third task and his bad summer pushed back, it's easier for him to control his anger. Therefore, he's going to be calm and cool for the most part. I know I'm also changing the way DA started, but I kind of like this way better. So it's staying.

And yes, I'll try to update again soon!


End file.
